


Nights in the North

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, NSFW, Violence, aggressive sex, pot smoking, wanton wilderness shagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yara Greyjoy, while traveling with Brienne of Tarth, relates the tale of her one and only sexual experience with another girl, many years ago when she was traveling north of the Wall.  Given the two ladies in question, it's about as aggressive and foul-mouthed as you'd expect.</p><p>(This is sort of an extension of the AU that was established in the Ballad of Catelyn & Brienne, in which Brienne is now in a long-term relationship with Catelyn Stark.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Yara and Brienne sit at a corner table in the rowdy main hall of the inn at The Crossings.  They have much more ground to cover, but the horses need food and rest, and so do they.  Their food and drink arrives, a pair of roasted chickens, some sort of unidentified mash, and a couple of absurdly large, foamy ales, in tankards nearly the size of barrels.  They eat for a few minutes without much conversation.  Brienne pokes at the mash with a fork, but ultimately decides to skip it.  She washes down several bites of mildly-spiced chicken with the ale, which is warmish and slightly bitter.  She rarely drinks as much as she has done in her travels with Yara.  She has been turning something over in her mind that Yara had said to her a while back and decides now is as good a time as any to ask her about it.

"So," she asks, a little awkwardly, "it's only men for you, then?"

"Why do you ask?"

Brienne shrugs.  "Curiosity."  Catelyn is the love of her life and the fire of her heart, and their days ruling together and their nights in bed together have changed her life entirely for the better, but she still struggles on occasion with the fact that she knows of no-one else like them.  Yara's earlier mention of having lain with a girl when she was younger was the closest that Brienne has ever come to meeting someone with a similar experience.

"Well, it's like this.  Yes, it's only men nowadays.  There was one girl, once, and I suppose there might be one again, but I've never found another like her."

"Yes, the one you spoke of.  Who was she?"

Yara considers her for a moment.  "It's quite a filthy tale, and I wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Evenstar."

"You weren't worried about my delicate sensibilities when you dragged me into that tavern fight two nights ago."

Yara smirks.  "Not my fault.  Tavern fights follow me wherever I go."  Brienne says nothing, but looks at her with that look that Yara has quickly grown accustomed to, that level stare that says Brienne is tired of being fucked with and wants her to talk straight. She sighs, "Alright, fine.  Let's get some more ale, and I'll tell you the whole thing.  But I warn you, it's not like your pretty love with your Lady Catelyn. And _you_ asked, so I won't be watering it down for you. I don't want to hear a word of complaint about it."

Brienne agrees.

Once they are appropriately outfitted for slightly drunken storytelling, Yara begins:

> "This had to be nearly eight years ago.  I was very young, and had decided for no good reason that I wanted to go north of The Wall.  I've always been one for adventures, you know, and that sounded like the adventure to end all.  I wanted to go somewhere no-one goes, to see what the hell was up there, if it was as cold as they say, find some wildlings to fight and some monsters to slay.  I wanted to see open wilderness, the snow, all of it.  So I went up, bought some gear for camping in the last village before the Wall in Brandon's Gift, bought some furs.  You've spent time in the North, you know how you need the furs at night.  And I made my way up.
> 
> Well, it was something.  Something and a half, even.  If you've never seen it, you can't possibly imagine the amount of empty, wide open space.  It just seems to stretch out beyond comprehension. The end of the first day I got up to the top of a ridge and I could see a little further north where there started to be a dusting of ice and snow on the hills and crags.  I climbed back down the ridge into a little canyon, if you could call it that.  With the sun starting to go down, I lit up a fire and wrapped myself in a fur.  Thought I was so tough, you know, doing this rough thing out in the wilderness.  I knew how to hunt and trap, I'd caught a couple of rabbits in the woods on the way up, and I sat there by my fire, wrapped up in my fur, cooking my rabbit.  Well, halfway into cooking it, I could feel eyes on me, and I look up.  On top of the rock is a girl.  She's got a bow, string drawn back, with an arrow pointed straight at me.
> 
> It's not quite dark yet, and I can see she's got red hair, the color of autumn leaves, and she's wrapped up in furs, rough clothes it looks like she probably made herself, out of animals she killed with that very bow.  She's wrapped thick, but I can tell she's got a slight, thin build underneath it all. Well, I'm armed, I've got my knives, a shortsword, my axe in my belt, of course.  But I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here.  I say something like, _surely this frozen shit-hole is big enough for both of us?_   So she looks at me, she can see my clothes and my weapons and she knows enough to know that I'm from what she calls the South.  As I learned, everything south of the wall is The South if you're a wildling.  She wants to know what I'm doing there.  I say, _oh, just cooking a rabbit_.  She says, _well, it looks like you're far from home, don't they have rabbits in The South?_   I say, _I'm just up here for adventure, I come from a place by the sea and wanted to see the wild north._
> 
> I say, _come on, put your bow down, and we can both have something to eat._   She says, _I've got me own idea about that.  How about I keep me bow up and you cook me a rabbit, princess?_    So I put another one on the fire, and I'm trying to figure out how I get out of this alive.  I don't think she specifically wants to kill me, but she's got a fierce look in her eye that says she wouldn't think twice about it.  I never saw a look like it on another woman before.
> 
> So I say, _look, I don't know if this is how you do it up here, coming up on people who are minding their own, trying to eat dinner, and threatening to kill them, but tell you what.  Put that thing down, come on down here, and we'll have a go, hand to hand._
> 
> She looks at me like I'm crazy.  Like she almost wants to laugh at me.  Of course she doesn't want to give up her advantage, why would she?  So I start taunting her.
> 
> I say, _I'm just a princess from the South, surely you can take me.  You win, you can take my rabbits and do whatever you will with me.  I win, you fuck off and leave me alone._
> 
> _I never met a Southron lady who ran her mouth like you do,_ she says. But she doesn't move. I say, _come on, I thought you savages were all rough and wild, you think you can't take me? You've got to cower up on a cliff and threaten me with a bow?_
> 
> Well, she lets the arrow fly and it goes right through both rabbits. Right through their eyes. One arrow, clean through, perfect shot. Then she disappears. I know this can't be over yet, so I take my axe and I'm waiting for her. I've got my back against the rock and I'm looking both directions. She comes running at me from the farther end of the canyon, and she's got a short sword in each hand.
> 
> And we go at it. I mean, at it. I draw my sword too, but I'm not used to fighting two-handed like this. Ever tried that? It's very hard to do well. She fights dirty, too. Fortunately, so do I.  No lovely rules of chivalry for us.   Twice, she gets me up against the rocks and I kick her away or knock her down. She's slight, but strong and fast.
> 
> I manage to get the one sword out of her hands and finally get her down on her back in the dirt. I'm kneeling over her and I've got her hand with the sword pinned down with my knee.  I've got my axe at her throat and I say, _well it looks like I win, that means you fuck off._
> 
> And I'm breathing hard, my blood is roaring in my ears, and I've got that rush that you get from a good fight.  The air is chilly but I'm sweating. And she's looking at me with a strange, fierce smile, and she says, _How about instead I just fuck?_
> 
> She gets her free hand and yanks me down and kisses me on the mouth, and she bites my lip, and it hurts.  I can taste blood, and she says to me, _I bet you're a fine, sweet lay, little princess_. And she's got these green eyes and they look at me as if... not only isn't she afraid she might die right now, it actually has her hot that I've disarmed her and gotten her on her back.
> 
> But it's got me hot too, I realize, and I kiss her again, and it's just... It's all hard, biting, lots of tongue, and she keeps whispering in between, _come on princess, put down the ax and let's go at it. I'll bet you're already wet._
> 
> And she's not wrong. I am. I let down my guard, and next thing I know, she's flipped me onto my back, she's sitting on top of me, with my own knife at my throat, no less! I say, _I thought we were going to have a go._ She says, _we are, princess, but not with you on top._
> 
> And she's sitting on top of me, and she's grinding on me, with my own knife still at my throat. Maybe this is a game, or maybe she really wants to fucking kill me, I can't tell. But I'm grinding on her as well, and I'm thinking if I'm going to die, there are worse ways to go than in the middle of a good fuck right after a good fight.
> 
> So I say, _how am I going to lay waste to your pretty little cunt when you've got a blade at my neck?_
> 
> She says, _you talk too much, princess._
> 
> So I put my hand up through all those furs and find one of her tits and squeeze it hard. Well, she likes that. Quite a lot, it seems. I've got her. I grab her hand and get the knife out of it, and toss it away.  And that does it. Now it's just hand to hand combat in the dirt to see who gets to be on top, you know, and it's all just shite-talking, tit-squeezing, hair-pulling, and hells if she isn't a biter. A hard one too. Pretty sure she drew blood more than once.
> 
> And even when we finally get in each others' breeches, it's a competition. She yanks mine down enough to get her fingers into me, and I'm not going to lie back and take it like a good girl, and so I get mine into her, and we're literally staring each other down while we go at each other. So I've got a free hand, I tear those furs of hers open and get my mouth onto one of her little tits and get my teeth into it, and I can see I've got it right. She's lost control of things.  I say, _who's a princess, now?_
> 
> She's still working me but I can see I'm going to finish her off first. And I do. She comes hard and wet all over my fingers. And I say, _I win_.
> 
> And she's flushed and angry, but she pushes me onto my back, pins me down with her legs and picks up her sword. I think I'm about to die for a moment, so I say, _Bring it on, then_ , but she takes it, turns it round, and fucks me with the hilt of it, and it's big, and hard, and cold, and ridged, and I finish like a fucking earthquake.  Never had it like that before or since.
> 
> _No, I think I win,_ she says.  And then after a minute, she says, _You can fight and you can fuck, pretty princess.  You can run with me a while if you like._
> 
> Well, I followed her round for a few days after that. She showed me a few things I'd have not likely found on my own.  Some pack of wildling men from a different tribe came up on us once, thinking to rob and rape us, and we fought them off together. Killed every last one.  She was wilder than anything I'd ever known, and the part of me that was young and stupid started to think I might never go home. That I'd just stay up North with my wildling girl, hunting, fighting, and fucking, hot and rough, by fires under the stars. I think she saw it in my face, smelled it on me that I was getting soft on her, because one morning, I woke up, and she was gone. I looked all over, but she'd left, and there was no way I'd find her again. I might be good with an edged weapon, but to her I was still a silly Southron lady playing at wilderness.
> 
> I ran through the hills for half a day, calling her name, but it was no good. She was gone."

Brienne looks at Yara, speechless. She and Yara are both flushed, from both the drink and the story. Brienne finally asks, "What was her name?"

Yara sighs nostalgically. "She was called Ygritte."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further tales of Yara & Ygritte's doomed but extremely hot liaison.

Brienne & Yara ride out the next day.  Brienne is glad to have avoided getting into a tavern brawl for once.  It seems to be part of traveling with Yara.  She'd gone to sleep in a bit of a lather last night after drinking so much ale and listening to Yara's story of her wildling girl.  It hadn't occurred to her that sex could even be as aggressive as what Yara had described, at least not when it was something both parties in question wanted.  It had aroused her curiosity, among other things.

After riding in silence for a while, she has to ask.  "I ... look, I mean ... I'm not so proper as you think, but..."

"You want to hear more about the girl,"  Yara interrupts with a knowing look.  Brienne hates that look.

"Well, I just... I mean ..."  She's struggling to figure out how to ask what she's wondering.  "Was it always like that?  I mean, were you always so rough with each other?"

Yara grins broadly.  "More or less, yeah."

"And... you preferred that?"

Yara chuckles.  "Fighting and fucking, it's all kind of from the same place for me.  It gets my blood going."

"Well, so... I mean, after she decided you could run with her... it was still..."

Yara sighs.  "You poor thing."  She slows the pace of her horse a bit and draws it closer alongside Brienne's.

> We spent a day working northwards into a range of stony hills covered in frost.  The sky is big up there, like it is when you're at sea. She showed me the best places to hunt, and I watched her bring down a stag at 500 paces like it was nothing.  I'd be lying if I said it didn't thrill me to watch her do it; those green eyes of hers, focused and deadly... You could see the wild spark in them when she killed it, and it made me want her again, right there, standing up, against the rocks, in the open, who fucking cared...
> 
> But we skinned the stag, cleaned it of its meat, and packed it off to a cave in the hills.  I'm good enough with a blade and carved it up fast before the cold started to come in.  We lit a fire, roasted the meat, and let the stag’s skin dry near the flames.  She told me tales of the free folk while we ate.  Who knew if she was making up some shite to fuck with the silly Southron lady, but it was entertaining enough.  I sat in the dirt with my pack behind my head, listening to her talk, loving the strange, foreign lilt of her voice as they have up North.
> 
> She finishes some story and sees me looking at her and says, "You hear any of that, pretty princess, or are you just thinking about gettin’ into me breeches again?"
> 
> "Oh," I say, "wouldn't be nearly as much fun this time, what with you not trying to kill me anymore."  And I lean back with my hands clasped behind my head like I can't begin to care.
> 
> She smiles that fierce smile, and I can see she knows I'm full of shite.  "That's a shame, I was thinking to fuck the pretty right off you just now," she says, that note of challenge in her voice that she knows I'll have a damn hard time refusing.
> 
> “As if you could,” I say.
> 
> “Them noises I had you makin’ last night say I could,” she comes back, and she comes over to me.
> 
> “I got you first last night,” I say.
> 
> “I got you best,” she says back.
> 
> She sits down on my lap, facing me, straddling my legs, starts in grinding on me a little bit.  “Come on then,” she says.  “I know you’ve been thinkin’ about it all day, princess.  I saw your face when I killed that stag.  You looked like you were ready to go right then and there.”
> 
> I grab her ass and start grinding against her, pulling her into me harder.  “Oh, is that what you think?”
> 
> “I don’t think, I know.”  She pulls her furs loose and opens them enough to show her tits.  They’re little and round, and her pale pink nipples are standing up stiff already, even though I haven’t done a thing to them yet.
> 
> “Looks like you’re the one ready to go,” I say.  But I can’t stop looking at them, can’t stop thinking how much I want one in my mouth.
> 
> She gets a hand into my hair and pulls my head back hard.  I draw a short breath, but I won’t show pain.  “What is it your people say?  You take what you want?” she taunts me.  She grabs my hair with both hands then,  and shoves my face into her chest and I start sucking on one of her stiff little teats.  The nipple's like a hard, little berry in my mouth.  I give it a bite.  I can tell it hurts, and I can tell she loves it.
> 
> “Did that hurt?” I say.
> 
> “Never felt a thing,” she says with a smile, but she’s panting.  I get my hand up in her hair, and yank her hair back.  I bite that hard little nipple even harder.  She’s arching her back, and trying not to make the noises I know she wants to make.
> 
> “How about that?”  I say.
> 
> “Hardly nothing,” she says, but she’s thrusting her hips against me.  I can see I’m leaving marks on her skin, and she's breaking a sweat.
> 
> So I push her off of me and onto her back.  “You’re a fucking liar,” I say, and I'm laughing, and I lie down on top of her, and sink my teeth into the lower part of her shoulder, just where it starts to become her chest, and bite hard, and suck through my teeth, until she finally yells in pain and grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head up.  She slaps me in the face and leaves my cheek stinging hot, and I’m laughing, and I strike her in return. Her cheeks are flushed, and the one I slapped is extra red, and she’s laughing too, with that wild spark in her eye that says, _I could fuckin' kill you if I wanted_.  Gods, I was mad for that.
> 
> So I kiss her.  Hard.  I get my teeth into her lower lip, bite down, and pull.  She's grunting and pushing her tongue into my mouth, and then she gets a hand inside my doublet and twists my nipple till it's almost killing me, but I don't want to cry out in pain, so I'm burying the cry in these rough kisses.
> 
> She grabs my hair, gets a knee up between my legs, and forces us over.  She sits on top of me, pins my wrists down in the dirt.  She's a strong little thing, it still surprises me. "Come on, princess," she's saying, and her voice is getting low now, "I know you been thinkin' about me gettin' inside you again.  Must be getting you all warm and wet."
> 
> Well, I _am_ hot and ready.  But I don't want to give her control.  I'm trying to fight my way free and get my hands on her again, but she's got me pinned down with a steel grip and the whole of her weight.  I'm breathing hard and struggling, but she's got me trapped.
> 
> So she's riding me now, and she says,  "Come on now, just say you want it, and I'll fuck you good and proper."
> 
> "Don't think so," I challenge her, thrusting my hips against her.  "I can feel you, you're so hot for me I can feel it right through those breeches.  You want me?  Just fucking have me.  Or don't you wildlings take what _you_ want?"
> 
> She lets go of my wrists and sits up and yanks my breeches clean off me, and she starts biting my thighs, hard enough to make that good kind of hurt that gets me wetter than spring.  A bit of pain sweetens the pleasure, you see.  I've got my hands on her hair  and I'm pulling it and digging my nails into the back of her neck and shoulders, leaving red marks that she’s going to have for days.  I let her go on like that for a few minutes.
> 
> After a bit, though, I flip her off of me, and that’s when I notice she's got her breeches off as well.  Not sure when she managed that.  "Well, you've done my work for me," I say, and pin her down.  I push her legs apart with mine, swing one thigh over hers, and one under, and I push in until my hot, wet cunt is pressed right up on hers, and she's grinding against it.  She’s got a surprised look, but I can feel her melting against me, digging her nails into my thighs while we go at it.  She feels like silk and oil on me, and it’s so hot and sweet I almost lose my own damned mind.
> 
> I say, “You like that, don’t you?”
> 
> Her thrusting against me is fast and hard, and getting faster.  She doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t need to.  I can see on her face that I’ve got her.
> 
> “You dirty little savage, you love my cunt on you, don’t you,” I say.
> 
> “Such language for a princess,” she says, but she’s breathing so hard she can barely speak.
> 
> I ask, “Should I stop?”
> 
> She's panting like she's about to die, and she says, “Don’t fuckin' stop, I’ll kill you.  You keep that right where it is.”
> 
> “Promises, promises,” I say, but I don’t stop.  “Weren’t you going to fuck the pretty off me?”
> 
> But I’ve done her too well.  She’s shaking and scratching at my legs and she's shouting all manner of curses while she comes against me.
> 
> But I’m not done.   I keep riding her, and I feel her shuddering with every move I make, but she won’t admit it’s too much.  She just grits her teeth and fucks me right back, looking me dead in the eye.  When I do come, it’s like a dragon roaring through my whole body.
> 
> I roll off of her and lie down on my back next to her.  Out the corner of my eye, I see her looking at her body to inspect where I’ve marked her, but trying not to be too obvious about it.  “Did you proper, didn’t I?” I say.
> 
> “Yeah, it was alright,” she says, trying to sound disinterested, you know, but I know I’m feeling pretty weak, and she looks like I feel.  “Let’s cover up.  It’s long past dark.”
> 
> “Right,”  I say.  We pull a few furs around us, and lie down.  I’m not so stupid as to think to hold her or anything like that.  But I lean over and kiss her goodnight, and her mouth is hungry and hot as ever, but just a little softer than before.  “Night, then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Yara completely and totally blows it.

Yara and Brienne find a clear space by a stream to pitch camp for the night.  Yara builds a fire and clears branches while Brienne catches a couple of fish and cleans them.  As the smell of cooking trout fills their nostrils and their mouths begin to water, Yara sits down, lights her pipe and says, "So, big woman.  You said earlier that you're not so proper as I think you are.  What'd you mean by that?"

Brienne pokes at the cooking fish uncomfortably.  She talks about bedding Catelyn with no-one, ever.  "It's... not really that interesting."

But Yara is not buying it.  "Now look, I've been telling you all about my wildling girl in every filthy detail, and you've been hanging on every word.  You've got to give up something.  It isn't fair."

Brienne knows she's right.

Yara pulls out her flask of rum and hands it over.  "Here.  This'll loosen you up."

Brienne takes a few swigs and dwells for a little while in the increasingly-familiar hot feeling of the rum in her gut.  Yara knows her well enough by now to just sit quietly until she's ready to talk.  Just as it's time to pull the fish from the fire, Brienne feels a wave of relaxation wash over her.  Yara sees the change in her face and prods again.

"Come on.  You're not so proper as I think.  What'd you mean?"

Brienne takes a breath and spits it out.  "My lady and I... er, she often binds me to the bed and blindfolds me."  She immediately turns red.

Yara hoots and claps her hands with delight.  "Gods be good!  Here I thought you were all rose petals and sonnets!  I would never have guessed it! Well done!"

Brienne decides she likes the fact that she's surprised her perennially swaggering companion.  She wears a small, slightly embarrassed smile.  "I've never told anyone that."

"I'm honored," Yara says, not entirely sarcastic. "Does she get rough with you, then?"

"What?  No!"  Brienne cringes.  "That's your pleasure, not mine."  She decides at this point that she's revealed enough and switches the conversation back to Yara.  "So, it was a couple of days of wanton wilderness shagging with your Ygritte, and then what? How did you end up getting your heart broken?"

Yara works through a mouthful of fish and bread before answering with unusual defensiveness,  "I never said she broke my heart."

Brienne is not convinced. "You said before, you wanted to stay with her."

Yara surrenders.

> It's easy to point to the moment when I went soft on her. We'd been running across the frozen plain all day, and we'd stopped in a little gully to rest for a bit. There was a thin layer of powdery snow on the ground now, and it was getting colder. Even moving fast as we were, and sweating, we needed to wear the furs. We weren't planning to stay there long, but we needed a moment to gather ourselves before making for the next ridge.
> 
> Well, it turned out we were being tracked. These five men, huge bastards, heavily armed, with shaven heads and deliberately scarred faces marked for war, ambushed us as we sat on the rocks. I grabbed a burning branch out of the fire and hit one in the face and then we went at the rest with our blades. Well and fine, until we saw five more coming from the other direction. _Don't let them get close to us or we're done for_ , I said to her. _I'll keep these bastards off you, but hurry.  
> _
> 
> We'd brought down one each, so I was left fighting off three of them while she scrambled away and raised her bow. She was quick and accurate, and only one of the five made it within ten feet of her. Good that she was quick too, because I was managing with the other three, and keeping them from her, but I was getting pretty banged up. I cut down two more, but the last was giving me a fine bit of trouble, till she gave him an arrow through the eye.
> 
> She climbed up on the rocks and looked around till she was satisfied there weren't any more coming. Then she climbed back down. She looked around at the trail of our dead, the blood on the snow, and the ax in my hand. She grinned at me and said, _You're a fuckin' dangerous girl_.
> 
> She came crunching across the snow toward me, dropped her bow, grabbed my face, and kissed me hard. There wasn't any wind at all, only the snow, falling quiet and careful. Her mouth dug deep into mine, hard, but slow, like she was really trying to feel all of it.  My blood was rushing so loud from fighting I could hardly hear my own thoughts, and I still had the weight of my weapon in my hand and was covered with dirt and blood.  I said, _I'm all dirty_.  She said, _I know_ , and kissed me again. I said, _And bloody_. And she said, _I know_ , as if she really liked that.  She pushed my back up against the rock and looked at me as if she wanted me as badly as I wanted her right then. So, she's got me against the rocks and she reaches down and starts unlacing my breeches, and she says to me, very quietly,  _I'm going to have you now, Greyjoy._
> 
> She'd only ever said my name once, when I first told it to her, and then it was nothing but "princess" after that.  So, the sound of it on her lips made me wild.
> 
> I said, _You can have me anytime you like, Ygritte._
> 
> She hiked my breeches down enough to get her fingers in and she says, _I'm going to bring you off, right now, alright?_ I said, _Do it_. She says, _You're going to come for me, standin' right here, understand?_ and she starts rubbing me out, and I say, _I'm counting on it_ , and I can't believe how fast and easy she gets me going.
> 
> I'm literally freezing my ass, I'm lightheaded, I'm pretty sure I'm hurt though I can't be sure where, but I don't care.  The day before, I'd imagined her taking me, exactly like this; standing up, against the rocks, frigging me stupid while she kissed me, and licking the blood from my lips, and whispering hot, filthy things against them. When someone gets inside your head like that... You instantly become like a drunkard craving the drink.
> 
> I nearly collapse when she finishes me. She's about to take some jab at me about it, but then we both notice one of the legs of my breeches is soaked through with blood at the thigh. She gets serious. She says, _You've been doing a bit of bleeding. We've got to get you someplace warm and stitch you up. It's only going to get colder_.
> 
> I lean on her as we get up to the cave. It's different than the last one. There's a stream of hot water from a hot spring, running down one wall, and it warms the air. I can't see where it drains to. But the real thing of it was that some of the rocks had a soft, blue glow to them. I thought I was seeing things on account of my light head, but some of the caves up there have these glow stones.  She doesn't know why they glow, but it's common enough to her. But I've never seen anything like it.
> 
> So, I lie down with my pack under my head, she peels me out of my breeches and inspects the wound. It'll heal, but it needs some stitching. She goes into my pack and finds my needle and then I say, _There's a little pipe in there too, a little bag of leaf, and a flint. Can you take that as well? I'd like to have a smoke before you go poking me with that needle._
> 
> She says, _Why, does it make it not hurt?_
> 
> I say, _No, but it'll make me not care._
> 
> I tell her how to pack the pipe and she sparks it with the flint. I smoke a bit, and then offer her some. She takes a pull, coughs, and sets it down. _I don't feel nothin'_ , she tells me.
> 
> I say, _Takes a minute_. I've got a bit of the float happening so I say, _I'm ready for the needle,_ _do your worst_.
> 
> She catches a little hot water in her hands, pours it over the wound. I barely feel a thing as I lay there in the dim blue light and she stitches me.
> 
> She's finishing the stitch when she says, _Oh, there it is_.
> 
> _What_ , I say.
> 
> _Your leaf,_ she says. _My, that's lovely, innit?_
> 
> I can see she's feeling the float. I know what it does to the pleasure of being touched and I can't let it go to waste. I say, _Ygritte, take off your clothes._
> 
> She says, _You need to save your strength, Greyjoy. You haven't got the stuff in you to fuck me just now._
> 
> _I don't care,_ I say.  _Just take off your clothes. I've never seen light like this, and I want to look at you in it. Just ...fucking get naked, will you_.
> 
> She smiles, and strips down.  I look at her slim little frame, the play of her wiry muscles underneath her skin, the tilt of her head, the jut of her hip...  She gets to running her hands over herself, squeezing her tits and the like, and it's clear she's feeling how the leaf enhances it. It's as fine a thing as I could want to see, blue light or not. I want to do things to her that would make even me blush. I say, _Come lay with me_. She's laughing at me a little but she lies down on top of me, and I can hear her suck in a little breath when she feels my skin and tits against hers. I say, _Now why don't you put one of those tits in my mouth, I'd like to be sucking on it right now._
> 
> _Would you, now_ , she says.
> 
> _Yeah,_ I say, _and I'd have my fingers up in you too, if I had half my strength. I'll bet you could use a proper pounding._
> 
> She starts moving her hips against me. _Big talk, Greyjoy, ya fuckin' cripple,_ she says, and her eyes are all mischief while she rubs up on me.
> 
> I say, _And you're dying to fuck this cripple.  Surely we can sort this out._
> 
> She sits up and straddles my good thigh and she starts rubbing herself on it. I feel how wet she is, and I may not be strong enough to fuck properly just now, but I can talk some shite. So I say, _That's it, use me. You can bring yourself off on me, I can tell how much you love it._ She picks up her pace, so I tell her _, Keep going, wild girl, I want to watch you come on top of me._ I push my leg up against her and she rides it harder and faster, so I keep on:  _If you're a good girl, and you come for me now, tomorrow I'll get all my fingers into your sweet, wet cunt and fuck it until you're begging me to stop._
> 
> It doesn't take long for her to get off, good and hard. She's slick against my thigh and she looks at my face while she finishes, shaking and moaning, with the warmth and pleasure of it all written on her face.  Right then, she's everything I could imagine wanting. And I think,  _I could live wild, and fight beside this girl, and fuck her,  forever_.
> 
> She lies down next to me. We smoke a bit more and lie together in the float. After a while she says, _So it's just about two more days back to me home. Were you plannin' to follow me all the way there?_
> 
> I pause too long. I can't tell if she's inviting me along or telling me it's time to part ways. _Do you want me to_? I ask.
> 
> Another pause, again, too long.  I can't tell what the look on her face means.  Instantly, I think, _She knows I've gone soft on her, now she thinks I want to tame her, this is a disaster.  
> _
> 
> So, I hedge.  I say, _I think I'd best be heading back South soon. I've got my own people waiting for me as well._
> 
> Her face is inscrutable at this point. I get worse. _We can sort it out in the morning,_ I say, hedging my hedge now. It comes out more like a question than a statement.  I was so young, but... I have never been so stupid and unsure with anyone else I've bedded.
> 
> She looks at my face, then her eyes travel down my body, and back up to my face again. She leans over and kisses me, long, slow and deep, like before. "In the morning, then," she says, "goodnight, princess."
> 
> And that was it. When I woke up, she was gone. She'd taken nothing, and she'd changed my bandage before she left. But she was gone, and there was no finding a wild girl who didn't want to be found.

The rum they've been passing back and forth has made Brienne's tongue looser by degrees. She looks at Yara from across the fire. "You _were_ in love, you stupid ass," she says finally. "And so was she."

Yara offers an obscene gesture in reply. "What do you suppose I should have done? Given up my father's seat at Pyke to stay up there? Dragged her home with me to live in a castle she had no use for? There was nothing for it."

"How do you know there was nothing for it?" Brienne comes back irritably. "You didn't try, you lazy shit ."

"Ugh," Yara responds, "stop trying to make the world into you and Catelyn."

"I'm not. I'm not telling you to go abandon your life to run back north and look for her either. Nobody would write a song about what you had with Ygritte unless it was a bloody sea shanty, but it was still the sort of love that suited you.  At least you might recognize such a thing for what it is if something like it should come to you again."

Yara slides down against the log she's been leaning on, and stretches her legs to get her feet a little closer to the fire. "Nothing like that will ever come again. I'll settle for a big sword and a stiff cock, and a big lad who knows how to use them."

"Ever the romantic," Brienne jabs, her sarcasm palpable.

"Fuck off, Evenstar," Yara says tiredly, closing her eyes.

"You first, _Lady_ Grejoy."

"Can't hear you.  Sleeping already.  First watch is yours."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post script to the star-crossed Yara & Ygritte. More of the cranky Yara/Brienne BROTP stuff that you know you love.

Catelyn Tully Stark of House Tarth, Lady of Evenfall and Mother of the Sapphire Isle, is standing on the promenade of Evenfall Hall, gazing out at the dazzling blue waters of the bay, indulging in a moment of simply dwelling in its beauty. She rarely has time to do so, as lady of the castle, helpmate of the Evenstar, and mother to a young, rambunctious boy. Her eyes light on a ship pulling into port, bearing a sail with that nasty kraken sigil of House Greyjoy. She does not bother to hide her displeasure.

"Brienne! The Greyjoy woman is here," she calls unhappily to Brienne, who is a few paces behind her, locked in what is clearly mortal combat with Rickon and his wooden sword.

Brienne scoops Rickon up, and looks at her lady wife, mirroring the annoyance writ on her face; but secretly, a small part of her is pleased.  Yara Greyjoy is an enormous pain in the ass; she's crass, she picks fights, she curses too much, she smokes that stinking leaf, and she needles and mocks Brienne like an irritating little brother. But she is also one of very few people in the world to whom Brienne knows she can say anything she pleases.  She knows that, vulgar as they often may be, the words from Yara's mouth are truth.  And she can think of few people she would rather have beside her in a fight.

It has been a good six months since they've seen each other last; since Yara's ascension to her father's seat at Pyke. She has brought with her a great, shaven-headed slab of a man whom she introduces as her intended; Ferron Galebreth, broad of shoulder and of sword, thick of neck and, evidently, of skull. _And probably other things as well, if I know that wench,_ Brienne muses.  She tucks that barb away in her mind to prod Yara with it later.

"What god did I displease to earn the misery of your company, Lady Greyjoy?" she asks.

"But misery _loves_ company, my lord Evenstar!" Yara protests, full of good cheer as she claps Brienne on the shoulder.

"But I wasn't miserable until _you_ got here."

"Then all is well on the Sapphire Isle."

Brienne harumphs.

"My lady," Yara says, and gives a cursory bow in Catelyn's direction, then turns back to Brienne.  "We have business to discuss.  But first, let's eat.  I hope I've not arrived too late for supper."

"Of course not," Catelyn says, courteous but not at all thrilled at the prospect of dining in the company of Yara and her Ironborn hulk.

Brienne is relieved that they manage to get through supper with only a few grossly inappropriate jokes... though with perhaps a bit more wine than usual.  Brienne arranges for a steward to bring Ferron to visit to the Academy on the south finger to watch a legendary Braavosi swordsman giving a master class, thus relieving Catelyn of the obligation to entertain him.

Yara and Brienne walk the promenade and talk about Yara's ambitions for her people, her conflicts and conquests, and just which of them precisely she intends on dragging Tarth into.  They come to a few agreements and when that is done, Yara lights her pipe.

"So, your Ferron seems suitable enough,"  Brienne remarks.

"Ah, he's a dolt," Yara says cheerfully.  "But... highborn, holds his drink, and good with his sword and his cock."

Brienne makes an expression not unlike gagging. "So, true love, then."

Yara shrugs.  "All the world is not you and your lady.  This will do the job well enough."

Brienne looks at her in the silence that follows; she may be the only person who would pick up the resignation buried beneath the "gods-be-damned" in Yara's voice.

Yara notices her studying her face.  "What?" she demands.

Brienne looks at her for a minute.  There is something a little haunted in her manner, she is sure of it now.  "You saw her again, didn't you.  Your Ygritte."

Yara hesitates, then nods.

"What happened?"

"It didn't work out," Yara says tersely.

Brienne prods.  "Why not?"

"Get us some more wine and I'll tell you."

They retire inside, and Brienne sends for some more wine.  As they begin drinking in earnest, she remarks, "You know Greyjoy, I never drink so much as I do when you're about."

"Of course," she rejoins.  "Because I'm fun.  You're not."

"Don't flatter yourself. Drink is the only thing that makes your presence tolerable," Brienne replies.  "Tell me what happened."

> I knew it was likely a fool's errand, riding north to look for her, but I had to try. I knew that having assumed my father's seat, that pressure to marry and produce an heir was going to be getting worse and worse. It's why I started dragging Ferron around, to get them all shut up about it. But you see, I had to know. I had to know whether she was going to be simply a memory I carried forever, or whether I was to consider turning the entire House and line of Greyjoy upside down, as you have done at Tarth.
> 
> The Crows at the Wall rarely see women, so when even one like me comes along, they're tripping over themselves to find excuses to talk to her.  They were all too happy to tell me all about their patrols, and the movements of the wildling packs, and the whereabouts of their villages, and with that, I was able to narrow down a direction, and in two days' ride, find a group that held some promise.
> 
> I delayed my approach because I realized at that moment that I didn't really know what I was even going to say. I stopped and tied my horse to a tree near a small stream running clear and cold through the wood, and knelt down to refill my skins.
> 
> I heard footsteps behind me in the half frozen leaves on the ground, and I felt eyes on me. I stood up slow, and said, _I'm not looking for any trouble._
> 
> I couldn't believe it. There she was, bow raised, arrow pointed straight at me. A lad stood some paces behind her with a drawn sword.
> 
> She looked exactly as I remembered her. Fierce green eyes with a killer's spark, wild hair the color of autumn leaves, determined little chin. I flamed up at the sight of her like we'd only been apart for a day.
> 
> She looked stunned when she realized it was me. Stunned and, actually, a little horrified. After a moment, she says, _PRINCESS??_
> 
> _Yeah,_ I say.
> 
> _What in the fuck are you doing here?_ she says.
> 
> _I think you can lower your weapon,_ I say.
> 
> _Do you,_ she says, but after a moment, she does.
> 
> The lad keeps looking at me and asks, _Ygritte, you know this woman?_
> 
> _We go back a long while,_ I say to him. _What's your name, pretty lad?_
> 
> And he is pretty. Pretty face, pretty black curls. I see the way he watches protectively over her and I know they're together.
> 
> _That's Jon Snow,_ she says. _What the fuck are you doing here?_
> 
> _I need a word, Ygritte,_ I say. _Tell your pretty lad to piss off._
> 
> I put it together ...Jon Snow... as in Ned Stark's bastard, your Lady Sansa's half-brother.  I'd actually met him once, when we were children.  It didn't go so well for him.  He starts to object.  He says, _Ygritte, I know this woman-_
> 
> I say, _You know nothing, Jon Snow._   They both look a bit stricken when I say this, though I don't dwell on it much.  _Now give us ladies a few moments, would you?_
> 
> Ygritte looks back at him and nods. _It's alright,_ she says.  _Go on.  I'll catch up._   He looks very unhappy about it, but he heads off down the trail.
> 
> I come closer to her.
> 
> _What the fuck do you think you're doing here?_ she asks again.
> 
> _I came to find you,_ I say.
> 
> _After all this time?  Now?_ she says.  She's looking at me as if I'm a ghost.
> 
> _Yeah,_ I say.  _Ygritte,  I never stopped thinking about you, not in all this time._
> 
> So I push her back against the tree and kiss her and it's like a thunderclap.  My skin is acting like my clothes aren't even there.  I can't feel anything except the heat of her mouth on mine and we're biting each other's lips like there's a chance we could catch up on eight years of kisses unkissed.
> 
> She pulls back and looks at me, angry.  _What the fuck?_
> 
> I say, _I don't know why you left me that night in the caves, and I don't care.  I don't want anything else but you.  Tell that Jon Snow that you're mine now._
> 
> _I'm not anybody's,_ she says, staring at me.  But then she grabs my hair, pulls my face back in kisses me some more, so hard as to almost feel violent.  And I love it.
> 
> I push her breeches down and slip my hand inside, and she's already wet.  So I start to stroking her and I say, _It feels like part of you might be mine._
> 
> And gods, the way she looked at me... I had her.  I stroked her faster and she started moaning, but she was torn up too.  Her eyes were lit up with agonized lust; it was all there, plain as day.  I had her, and she didn't want to be had.  She says, _I fuckin' hate you._
> 
> _Yeah,_ I say, _feels like it._
> 
> She slaps me once, hard across the face and it makes me shudder but I don't stop.  The heat of it just goes straight through me.  I say, _you know I love it when you're rough with me._
> 
> I get my fingers inside of her and I'm leaning in and biting her neck, and she's moaning and she says again, _I fuckin' hate you._
> 
> _Should I stop then?_ I ask.
> 
> She's moaning and she says, _No, don't stop.  I hate you.  But don't stop._
> 
> She comes fast, hard, like an avalanche, and she's hot and slick, and I'm whispering in her ear, _Good girl, that's it.  
> _
> 
> She's flushed and breathing hard, and she hikes her breeches back up, and looks at me.  She's smiling, but it's a pained kind of smile.  _Greyjoy,_ she says.  _What makes you think you could just show up here and have a go like that?_
> 
> I say, _Because I could.  I want to be with you, Ygritte.  I want to run with you, I want to fight beside you, I want to lay with you every night._
> 
> She shakes her head and laughs bitterly.  _Nothin' about this is a good idea,_ she says.
> 
> I hook my hands around her waist and I say, _I don't care.  Let's just get on my horse, let's go off and find someplace quiet.  Fucking forget everybody for a little bit and just kiss, and fuck, and hunt, and smoke, and sleep a little in between._ I tug at her clothes.  _Come on._
> 
> She kisses me again, looks at me with such aching like I never saw in anyone, and she says, _Fuck it.  Let's go._
> 
> We get on my horse, and she's riding behind me, holding onto my waist, biting the back of my neck,  sliding her hands into my doublet to get at my tits as we ride.  She's directing me toward a range of low hills, craggy and black, where she knows the caves are warm, and difficult to find.  I barely finish tying up the horse outside one  when she's shoving me into the cave and we don't even stop to pitch camp, we're just going at it again.
> 
> We stay there a couple of days.  And there's nothing else.  It's just us, alone, away from everyone and everything, devouring each other, clawing at each other, riding each other into the dirt.  We'd occasionally put ourselves together enough to go kill something and eat it, or get more firewood.  But my skin was craving her every moment, and it was more than clear she felt the same.
> 
> Eventually, after a couple of days of this, we were lying next to the fire, wrapped up in furs, and she said, _Greyjoy, why'd you come back now?  After all this time, why'd you come lookin' for me?_
> 
> I said, _I was still comparing everyone else to you, I thought that maybe I should just ....be with you._
> 
> She's not satisfied with this.  _But why now?_
> 
> _My father died a month ago,_ I told her.  _His seat, his castle, his title, they're all mine, if I want them.  So, I need to decide if I want them._
> 
> _What's that to do with me?_ she asked.
> 
> _Because if you said you wanted me to stay with you, I'd let them all go without even thinking twice._
> 
> She sits up and looks at me, and I see that pained smile again.  _Greyjoy_ , she says to me, _how do you think it's going to go?  You give up your castle and your army and your fancy title, and come live up here with me and the free folk?  And what happens when you tire of it?_
> 
> I say, _Why don't you ask that of your Jon Snow?_
> 
> _Jon Snow has nothing to go back to,_ she says to me.  And her stare is heavier than stone.  She never says it, but it's clear enough that she loves him.
> 
> _So then why not come home with me for a while?_ I dig my fingers into her hair and kiss her throat.  She sighs a little bit.  I persist, _Come back to the islands with me.  Come on raids with me.  A pair of pirate queens, plundering and pillaging the coasts and striking fear into the hearts of men.  It'd be brilliant.  It'd be wonderful._ I can't help myself but to picture it, me and her running ashore with fifty Ironborn behind us, and she laying waste with her bow.
> 
> She looks so sad now.  _Greyjoy, you should see your face right now when you talk of it.  That's who you are.  Sure, you might be alright here for a while, but you belong where you belong, and it's not up here.  And I don't belong on the fuckin' ocean.  
> _
> 
> I have laid myself bare to her and it is not working.
> 
> She goes on, _It's why I left you in the first place, back in those caves all those years ago.  Because there's no way that this ends happy.  There's no way this ends with me and you together.  I didn't want a long goodbye.  I didn't want... this._
> 
> I reach for my pack and my rum.  I can't speak any more, because I fear if I do, I will break in front of her, and I can't let myself do that.  So I sit and drink.
> 
> She starts to stroke my back and shoulders, and she says, _It's not that I don't want you, Yara Greyjoy.  Nobody ever lit me up like you do.  Not even Jon Snow, bless him.  I can't hardly look at you without wanting to fuck the daylights out of you. But _I'm not plunder for you to come and claim.  We aren't made to belong to one another._ You know I'm right.  
> _
> 
> I don't say anything, I just kiss her real rough.  In seconds, we're going at it again, biting each other's skin, scratching each other's thighs, coming against each other's fingers, and she's laying on top of me, still wet and shaking from it, and I say, _I think you should go now.  Take the horse._
> 
> I watch her get dressed, and I'm taking it all in, because I know I'm never going to see her like this again.  Her thin little body, hair undone and hanging down to her bare ass, and that look.  That look she's giving me, that aching look, like this is the hardest thing she's ever done.  She's going to go home to her boy, and I'm going to go home to my castle, and it all seems like a damned raw bargain.  I don't have the wherewithal at that moment to scrape together a thought about whether she's right, though probably she is.  I watch her wrap herself up, and walk out.  She looks over her shoulder one last time with trembling chin and eyes that say she's breaking inside, same as I am. I hear the horse galloping away a few moments later.  And that was it.

Yara isn't one to show grief but Brienne knows her enough to know this was a hard tale to tell.  "I'm sorry," she manages.

"Why sorry?  It's not your fucking fault," Yara says, her words coming out sounding a little more belligerent than she intended.  "You even told me not to go chasing after her.  It was stupid, I knew it when I was doing it, and I did it all the same."

Brienne sighs.  In a way, it's a relief to see a side of Yara that is human, that hurts, that gets its heart broken.  On the other hand, she decides, she does not like it one bit.  Too much sympathy for Yara Greyjoy can never lead to anything good.  "Well, you did what you had to do.  You had to know, so you went and found out.  And now you know.  Now, why don't you go and find that dolt of yours and shag him rotten. It'll do you no good to dwell on this.  Or ...should I have one of the ladies fetch you some embroidery to do whilst you gaze longingly at the sea?"

Yara gives her a crooked smile.  "Shagging a dolt sounds infinitely preferable to embroidery."


End file.
